


"Maybe you could call me dad?"

by TiredRazzberry



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Gen, Robb is just...adjusting, not bad ones, step parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:02:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredRazzberry/pseuds/TiredRazzberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon is away for the weekend. Robb and his new step-son spend some time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Maybe you could call me dad?"

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing! All rights belong to GRRM.

Robb was woken by small hands shoving at his shoulder and a quiet, familiar voice pleading, “Wake up, Robb, wake up.” He sounded anxious, and that filled Robb with dread the moment he realized Lonny was trying to wake him up. Gently, Robb pushed away the boy’s hands and eased himself up off his nice, warm (and kind of lonely) bed with a groan.

Sitting up, Robb looked down at the four year old standing beside the bed, clad in one of Theon’s old band tees, which hang past his knees, and a pair of baggy, sea life themed pajama pants. One of his socks was missing again as well. In general, the boy looked shabby and almost frail. His nervous expression didn’t help matters.

“Lonny,” Robb yawned. “What’s wrong? Is Nasreen crying or something?” He asked, hoping that was the case.

Unfortunately, the boy shook his head and looked at his feet guiltily. Robb has a sinking feeling in his gut.

“What did you do?” He asked, bracing himself the answer.

Lonny looked up with a quivering bottom lip. “I spilled all the milk!” He confessed, and Robb was torn between sighing in relief and laughter, so he did a little of both.

He stood up, shivering at the coldness of the floor, and picked the boy up and balanced him on his hip. Lonny looked at him with surprise (which is no wonder, because Robb’s rarely very affectionate with the boy) and asked, sniffling, “I’m not in trouble?”

Robb shook his head.

“You’re not in trouble—and there’s no need to cry over spilled milk either. There's a saying about it, if you don't believe me. Just show me the mess, okay?”

Lonny nodded timidly as Robb put him back on the floor and took his small hand in his larger one. Lonny led Robb into the kitchen, which was the only part of the house with a light on at this early hour.

Robb was expecting the kitchen island to have a puddle of milk sitting there from the failed efforts of a bowl of cereal.

What he finds is the kitchen island, counters, and floor soaked with the white liquid. The kitchen island was also littered with the makings of a five-star breakfast: a carton of eggs, the milk, a package of bacon, a box of pancake mix, the waffle iron, a mixing bowl, measuring cups, and spoons all sat there. Upon closer inspection, Robb found the mixing bowl filled with pancake mix and two eggs already. One of the measuring cups was wet with milk. Robb's surprised to not find the mix spilled anywhere (except just a dusting on the counter near the box), and the egg yoke is firmly inside the bowl, the egg shells sitting in the garbage. Lonny simply seemed to have hit a snag with pouring the milk all by himself.

Robb looked at the boy fidgeting in the kitchen doorway.

“Were you trying to make pancakes?” He asked.

Lonny shook his head. “Waffles.” He whispered.

 _Of course,_ Robb thought, looking at the waffle iron on the island. _Waffles_.

Robb sighed and crouched down before Lonny, who seemed ready to be yelled.

“Lonny, you shouldn’t try and cook all by yourself. You’re too little and could burn the house down. Why didn’t you just make a bowl of cereal?” He asked, and Lonny looked down at his feet for a moment before whimpering, “Because it’s Sunday.”

Robb looked at Lonny with confusion at first, but then it struck him. Theon made breakfast for the whole family on Sunday. Waffles, to be specific, with bacon and eggs. But this weekend, Theon was with the rest of the Greyjoy family on a fishing trip to shut his dad up, having left the rest of them all behind to save them from Balon’s sneers and Theon’s creepy uncles. Lonny was just trying to do what his dad usually did.

“Lonny,” Robb spoke softly, brushing the boy’s shaggy dark hair away from his eyes. “You didn’t have to do all this. I would have made us all breakfast.”

For a moment, Lonny just looked at him with wide dark eyes.

“Even me?” He asked, and Robb felt like the worst human-being to walk the earth. He knew it! He knew Lonny could sense it the whole time! Ever since the boy moved in with them months ago, Robb had just known Lonny thought he didn’t like him—but _no_ , Theon assured him no four year old was that perceptive to an adult's discomfort! Wherever Theon was right now, Robb hoped Balon Greyjoy was near by. Robb gave Lonny an apologetic look.

Now, it wasn’t as if Robb didn’t like Lonny. It was just…Lonny wasn’t _his_. He was Theon’s kid. Specifically, Theon’s kid with some girl he met at a bar five years ago when the two of them were still just best friends who insisted they were not a gay couple to people who asked. Well, you could imagine Robb’s anguish when almost a year after that one night stand, just after he and Theon got together, a strange woman came out of nowhere demanding child-support for her newborn son. And so the four year nightmare began where Robb struggled constantly with knowing that those weekends Theon couldn’t see him were because he was off spending time with his son, that those checks Theon signed at the breakfast table would be sent to the woman who raised his son, and that every time Theon opened his wallet, a picture of a smiling baby boy stared back at him. Robb hated being so distinctly cut off from a whole other part of his boyfriend's life. Not to mention, there was lingering fear that Theon might just ditch him for Lonny's mother...

And then six months ago, Theon was awarded full-custody of his son just after they brought home Nasreen, and Robb still couldn’t bring himself to see Lonny as just as much his kid as Nasreen was. He hated himself for it.  

“Of course I’d make you breakfast, Lonny.” Robb said. “I’d make you breakfast everyday if you liked.” He added, and Lonny smiled shyly at him through his shaggy hair. Robb messed it up even further, making a mental note to schedule a haircut before preschool started in a few weeks.

“Come on, let’s clean this up. And then we’ll finish making those waffles, kay?” Lonny nodded his head, smiling brightly.

It took a lot of paper towels, some elbow grease, and half an hour, but they clean up the kitchen and finish making breakfast. Robb went and woke Nasreen and put her in her high chair and poured a couple handfuls of cheerios before her. Then he and Lonny sat at breakfast table, stacks of syrupy waffles and mountains of bacon and eggs before them. They make sure to save a plate for Theon when he gets back that afternoon.

They eat in a companionable silence, him and Lonny, with Nasreen’s cooing and Greywind chewing of his own bacon strips on the floor acting as background noise.

Lonny smiled at him and laughed suddenly. “You have syrup all over your face, Robb!” He giggled and Robb’s hand flew to his stubbly chin, and sure enough, it’s sticky.

He grabbed a napkin and started wiping himself off while Lonny carried on laughing.

When he’s cleaned up, Robb cleared his throat and said, “You know, you don’t have to call me Robb all the time…” and Lonny stops laughing and looks at him with confusion.

“What should I call you?” He asked, and Robb shrugged.

“Anything you like…But…maybe you could call me Dad…?” He looked at Lonny nervously, and the boy seemed to be contemplating the proposition, eyes on the ceiling and finger itching his chin and everything.

Finally, he nodded resolutely and smiled.

“That sounds fine.” He declared before digging back into his waffles cheerily. And Robb was left thinking that maybe, just maybe, one day he could call Lonny his son too. 


End file.
